


Rose Adage

by kyaasnow



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Ballet Apprentice Yuri, Brief mention of restricted eating, Brief mention of self-harm, Corps Member Otabek, Everybody is about 2 years older than canon, Gentle Kissing, M/M, Potty-Mouthed Yuri Plisetsky, Strong Opinions on Russian Composers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 04:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11959938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyaasnow/pseuds/kyaasnow
Summary: Yuri's entire career has been allegro. Get in, get promoted, get to the Bolshoi. But somehow, between Tchaikovsky and Prokofiev and a corps member named Otabek, it's become an adagio.





	Rose Adage

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, HUGEST thanks to my partner in this endeavor, [ captainoceanwhirl](http://captainoceanwhirl.tumblr.com)! They've been so patient with me this whole time, and the art is just GORGEOUS. You can see it on their Tumblr, and it's also embedded in the fic.
> 
> Thanks so much to the Shit Bang mods and all my pals on the Discord server who've made this experience so fun! Thanks BUNCHES to [Void](http://archiveofourown.org/users/VoidGlasses/pseuds/VoidGlasses), who betaed this for me at the last minute. <3
> 
> This fic was a little rushed, but I hope it's still enjoyable! Happy reading!

Yuri feels eyes on him during warm-up.  He keeps his gaze trained tightly on himself in the mirror.  There are several people who could be staring at him.  Viktor, checking up on him as he always fricking does (although lately he's been distracted by the other Yuuri – screw that guy).  Other apprentices, watching Yuri half in awe, half intimidated by him (Yuri likes it that way).

There's only one set of eyes that he _feels_ , though, and it's not worth it to break his concentration for—

Frick.  He looked.

The corners of Otabek's eyes crinkle at Yuri in the mirror.  A little breathless, Yuri gives a small smile back.

Could it be any more obvious that Yuri has never had a friend before?  Like what the hell.  He tries to focus on his exercises again.  The repetitive piano tune, courtesy of Celestino, the pianist.  The stretch of his calves as he points his toe (that hurts more than it should – he'll have to get back to using the foot stretcher, which is freaking embarrassing).  The surroundings focus him, and his heart rate returns to normal.  The flush on his face could be blamed on pure exertion now.

Lilia eventually ends the warm-up with a few loud claps, and gestures for everyone to move the barres to the side.  Out of the corner of his eye, Yuri catches Viktor hopelessly flirting with the Japanese Yuuri.

"Gross," Yuri mutters, sidling up to Otabek and pretending to help carry the barre to the far wall.  "Does Viktor realize how badly he's embarrassing himself?"

Otabek hums.  "Something tells me Viktor has never really been one to worry about being embarrassed."

"You're right."  Yuri follows Otabek to their bags, where they grab a quick drink of water.  "You'd think he would give up by now, though.  Even I can tell Katsudon's giving him the ultimate brush-off."

"Katsudon," Otabek repeats.  "Cute nickname you've got for him."

Yuri's face reddens against his will.  "It's not cute," he hisses.  "I just refuse to call him by _my_ name."

Otabek shrugs and politely ignores Yuri's embarrassing blush.

The fact is, Katsuki Yuuri is really freaking cute.  As much as it pains Yuri to admit.  Yuuri is a recent import.  A guest dancer from the National Ballet of Japan.  He arrived just on the tails of the Nutcracker season last month, and Yuri's been split between ogling him like everyone else and detesting him for daring to have the same name – _and_ for attracting 110% of Viktor's attention.

"How about you two speak English so I can join in the conversation, too?"  Jean-Jacques Leroy makes a completely unwelcome interjection to their conversation.  He nudges Otabek, which in turn presses Otabek into Yuri's side, and Yuri would be super grateful if this whole friend-thing didn't involve his skin tingling whenever they touched.

Yuri mutters a not-nice word in Russian under his breath.

"What was that?"  JJ tilts his head.  "Little Yuri, you don't sound too happy."

"Would anyone ever sound happy in your presence?"

"Yura," Otabek chides just before Yuri storms away to join the other dancers in the center of the room.

He would never admit to the warmth that spreads within his chest whenever Otabek calls him Yura.  Aside from Viktor, Otabek is the only one that does it.  Even Lilia calls him Yuri, despite being as Russian as a person could get.  But Otabek's smooth voice.  His soft, indulgent tone doesn't sound as condescending as it could.

Yuri shrugs his shoulders and shakes his arms out, wiggling those thoughts out through his fingers.  He has only one thing to focus on: getting the most out of his apprenticeship at the company.  If he ends up not getting a job – which, of course, has the slimmest possibility of happening since he's loads better than any of his peers – he'll have to start back from square one.  And that cannot happen.

He pictures Dedulya, and Dedulya's ratty little car and tiny little house, and he throws himself into warm-ups.

***

That evening finds Yuri and Otabek sitting on Yuri's couch soaking their aching feet in ice baths.  Yuri's apartment isn't any bigger or less crowded than Otabek's, but it somehow became their normal hangout area.  Perhaps because Yuri feels most comfortable here.  And it feels less... just less.  (He refuses to acknowledge Viktor's constant accusations of "control issues.")

It's just past eight-thirty when Yuri's roommate returns with a bag from the corner store.

"Back!" Guang-hong sings.  "With drinks and snacks for my favorite dancers."

"Shut up," Yuri grumbles.  Which is about as threatening as he can be, sitting on the couch with his feet in a bucket of ice water.

Next to him, Otabek shakes his head.  "Thank you," he says to Guang-hong, ever the gentleman.  he holds out his hand for the bag.

Otabek's shoulder brushes Yuri's as he shifts around to open the bag.  There's a layer of soft cotton between Otabek's shoulder and Yuri's skin, but it sends a burst of heat through Yuri's chest anyway.  He ignores it, leaning in to peer at the goods over Otabek's shoulder.

"I wanted the ones with almond," Yuri says, casting a sharp look at Guang-hong.

The boy in question shrugs as he puts his fluffy coat on the top of their overcrowded coat rack.  "They were out of it.  And I figured you'd rather me come back quicker with the plain ones than wait longer for me to walk to the store all the way down by Phichit's place."

It's true, so Yuri sniffs and drags his snacks into his lap.

"You better not tell Lilia I'm eating this," he warns Otabek.

"I would never."

Most of the time it's easy to deny himself good food.  If it's going to hinder his ballet, Yuri doesn't want it anyway.  Fast food isn't worth sacrificing his body for.  But when his feet are aching like this and they're in an ice bath and he's watching some dumb ghost hunting show with his best friend, well.  Maybe that's worth eating a little bit of chocolate for.

He glances at Otabek.

Best friend.  He tests the words out in his mind again.  Best friend.  How strange, to have a best friend who's also a dancer.  To see him as... what, an ally?  Rather than competition.  He hadn't known this was possible.

"Leo still hasn't come home?" Guang-hong asks, settling into their one armchair.  "His rehearsal doesn't usually go this long."

"Dunno.  Text him."

"I did."

"Text him again."

Otabek clears his throat.  "Doesn't he usually get together with his church group on Tuesday nights?"

"Oh!  Right!" Guang-hong snaps his fingers with a grin.  "Otabek, our unofficial fourth roommate."

"Unless he's paying rent, it doesn't count," Yuri says.  "Although I won't complain if you want to pay rent."

Otabek never really _grins_.  In Yuri's eyes, he does, but nobody else would consider the slight turn of his lips and the crinkles around his eyes as a smile.  But Yuri sees it, and it leaves him breathless every time.

Frick.

He clears his throat.  "Let's stretch."

"Yuri, why?"

"Because."

"You haven't even eaten your peppero."

He ignores Otabek.  Instead, he steps out of the ice bath – damn, his feet are tender – and walks over to the small island that separates the living room and the kitchen.  Yuri rests his hand on the counter and lifts his right leg.  He pulls it with his free arm.  Pulls, pulls, until he's in a hyperextended split, and then he pulls and pulls some more until it's beyond hurt.

***

The next week is supposed to be Yuri's first performance of the winter season.  But rehearsal is cancelled a few days before said performance due to an incoming winter storm.  Yuri has lived in the U.S. for several years now and yet still cannot fathom what a big deal a bit of snow makes.  He's Russian.  He's walked to ballet class in blizzards.  He's walked to school with Dedulya over a frozen river.

And here, one storm threatens to bring a little bit of heavy snow and they shut the entire city down.

So with nothing to do, and no way to get anywhere (the trains are shut down, too, which what the hell) Yuri invites Otabek over to watch Guang-hong and Leo try to cook some sort of Chinese-Mexican fusion meal.

Otabek brings the cold in with him.  He's covered in enough snow that Yuri doesn't attack him with a hug like he'd planned to (he tries not to think about what exactly that hug is supposed to mean).  Instead, he steps aside to let him take off his boots and peel off his layers.  Underneath his coat, of course, he's wearing a leather jacket as usual.  Otabek pulls off his knit hat and his hair is pleasantly tousled in a way Yuri hardly ever sees it.

Yuri's stomach does a little flip.

"There's a ton of people outside," Otabek says in greeting.

"I saw.  There's some kids sledding or some junk right beneath my bedroom window."   _And being loud as fuck about it._

Yuri stands there, watching Otabek as he slips off his wool socks.  Otabek's feet are pretty, geez.  Yuri knows very few dancers with feet that nice.

"They haven't started cooking yet," Yuri mutters.  And then feels like an idiot about it afterwards, because obviously they aren't cooking yet.  Leo is sitting right there sprawled across the couch, waving cheerily at Otabek.  "We're watching The Day After Tomorrow."

Otabek nods once.

Leo is occupying the entire couch and doesn't seem inclined to move.  So when Otabek takes a seat on the lone armchair, Yuri doesn't hesitate in scooting into the small space between Otabek's body and the left arm of the chair.  He also doesn't hesitate in blushing embarrassingly hard at the warmth along his side.  Their thighs are snug together.  Otabek's are strong and warm and Yuri has _seriously_ got to get over this.

Otabek maneuvers his arm around Yuri's shoulders.  They fit in the chair more comfortably this way, but Yuri's body is now made entirely of fire and he's sure Otabek can feel his heart slamming inside his chest from this close.

But Otabek says nothing.

They watch the movie in relative silence.  Guang-hong emerges from his and Leo's shared bedroom, rumpled and groggy and a little confused as to why Otabek is there.  He glances at Otabek's hand idly stroking Yuri's shoulder, and then spins right around to go brush his teeth.

Around lunch time, Guang-hong and Leo get started.  Yuri and Otabek watch from the island.  They're standing close – a little _too_ close, maybe, but they have to stay out of the way of Leo's prep space – and Yuri notices that Otabek smells... well, _really_ freaking good.

He has not, now that he thinks about it, ever really experienced Morning Otabek.  Of course they see each other in the mornings at class.  Maybe even meet up on the train on their way to the studio.  But this – Otabek casual, probably fresh out of the shower, in a soft long-sleeved shirt and... those baby-fine hairs at the back of his neck and... the curve of his bottom lip and... the husky little sound he makes as he clears his throat to ask Guang-hong something about the chicken and...

_Shit._

"I have to go get something," Yuri says out of the blue.  Everyone looks at him.  Face burning, he peels himself away from Otabek and nearly trips over his suddenly-too-long limbs rushing into his room.

His door shutting sounds too loud, but he tries to ignore it.

He has no idea how much time he's just bought himself, but after about a minute has passed and Otabek hasn't come knocking (why is that something Yuri even expects?) Yuri takes the time to stretch.  Using the foot stretcher.  Getting annoyed that it's not enough, and instead taking his foot and folding it virtually in half like Yakov, his childhood instructor, used to do.  It hurts – it really freaking _hurts –_ but it's a good reminder of what he's here for.

Geez.  Is this a fucking _crush_?  He doesn't have time for crushes.  Has never had time for them, in fact.  Which makes this, whatever this blushing and heart palpitation thing is, a first.  And it sucks.

He extends one leg and pulls at his toes in a calf stretch.

The entire reason he's even an apprentice is this godforsaken ballet company is to get back to Russia.  He's not supposed to be enjoying himself here.  That's for later.  Maybe.  Coming here was about providing for Dedulya.  For getting as far out of his mother's influence as he could.  To make it to the top – to the Bolshoi – without his mother's money and grooming.  What business does Yuri have crushing on another dancer?  What is the point of _that_?

Yuri is in a full split, facing his bed when there's a soft knock at his door and it opens.

"Yura--"  Otabek stops abruptly.

Yuri slowly pushes his torso up from the ground and turns.  Otabek's eyes dart from somewhere near the floor to Yuri's eyes.

"Hey," Yuri says, hoping his breathlessness just sounds like it's from the exertion of stretching.

Otabek clears his throat.  A little "hm-mm" sound that sounds a little too good to Yuri's ears.

"Food is just about ready," Otabek says.

"Okay."

Lunch is mostly accompanied by Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake and Yuri's overly-loud complaints about the musical selection.

" _Fuck_ Tchaikovsky," he announces the moment the first notes emerge from Leo's surround-sound speakers.

"This is my favorite ballet," Guang-hong whines.

"You know how he feels about his Russian composers," Leo says.  He turns to Otabek.  "Yuri hates Tchaikovsky."

"I know," Otabek murmurs with a short glance at Yuri.

Leo looks between them before laughing awkwardly.  "Oh, right.  You probably know Yuri better than us at this point."

Yuri's cheeks warm.

"Rachmaninov is loads better," he says to distract himself.  "Everyone who prefers Tchaikovsky is just a... fake."

"It's because he's more popular."  Guang-hong grins conspiratorially at Leo.

"Because a real fan would listen to _more_ music than just what you hear at Christmastime!"

"We know, Yura," Otabek says quietly.

"For that matter, Stravinsky is fucking better, too."

"Name one Stravinsky composition you love," Leo snaps.

"Easy.  'Danse de l'Oiseau de feu _.'"_ Confident, Yuri digs back into his Mexican fried rice.

"That's _The Firebird_.  Too popular," Guang-hong points out.

" _The Firebird_ is amazing.  But sure, the last one by him I listened to was 'Scherzo fantastique.'"

Otabek smiles a little to himself.  Perhaps not a smile to anyone else, but Yuri can tell by the slight shift of the corner of his mouth.  Otabek's mouth.  Wow.

"You haven't told them your secret, Yura?" he says.

Yuri grumbles at his plate, "When you say it like that, it makes it shameful."

Guang-hong is practically vibrating where he sits.  "What's the secret?"

Otabek gives Yuri a _look_ , and it's a combination of compassion and friendly spite that sets his blood boiling.  So before Otabek can say anything, Yuri growls, "I love the rose adage."

His roommates blink.

"The one from _Sleeping Beauty_?" Leo asks.

"Yes," Yuri snaps.  "The music is good and the choreography is fucking _difficult_ and I know because I danced it last year and I like a fucking challenge."

The three other boys do poor jobs of hiding their grins as they drink their water.

"Yuri Plisetsky likes his challenges," Leo murmurs.

Later in the evening, the boys gather around the living room window to look out at the blizzard.  The snow is really coming down now, the wind whipping it around.  Essentially, it's a whiteout.  Even the kids who were playing outside this morning aren't there anymore.  On the street level, the snow is quickly rising up along the sides of cars.

"I don't think you should go home in this," Leo says, ever the responsible one.  For a moment, Yuri is reminded of when he first moved into the dorm as a student at the ballet's academy.  Leo was a couple years older, and friendly and smiley, and Yuri had wanted to crush that big-brother spirit.  Somehow, he'd grown used to it.  Enough that when Leo and Guang-hong had to move out of academy housing, Yuri had gone along with them.

"I'll be fine," Otabek tells them.  "It's just a few blocks."

"A few blocks in this city is a lot, Otabek."  Leo backs away from the window and settles his hands on his hips.  "We can't let you go out into the blizzard.  Tell him, Yuri."

Yuri is curled on the floor, peering up over the windowsill.  He turns to Otabek automatically.

"Just stay the night.  You can go back in the morning.  We don't have class until nine," Yuri says.  And then, "You can just stay in my room with me."

Otabek does not argue.

 

The four of them watch another disaster movie, and then it's time for bed.

Otabek uses an extra toothbrush.  Yuri tries to ignore his fluttering heart as they stand side-by-side brushing their teeth in the bathroom.   _It's just Otabek._ What is the point of a freaking crush?

What's the point of blushing and looking away when Otabek strips out of his layers into a T-shirt?  Of bundling down under the covers so that he doesn't watch when Otabek takes off his pants and pulls back the other side of the blankets.

"Yura," Otabek says quietly.  "Yura, look at me."

Yuri looks at him.  Otabek's gaze is soft.

"Is it really okay for me to sleep in here with you?"

"Of course."  Yuri jerks his head.

"Really."

Otabek does not look convinced.  So Yuri sighs and rolls over to face him fully.

"Please.  Stay here," he mumbles.  And saying that feels so vulnerable and so... so flipping _tender_ that Yuri is actually embarrassed.

But Otabek smiles and says, "Okay," and then he's sliding into bed beside Yuri, spreading all his delicious warmth beneath the covers.  He settles down with a sigh that sets Yuri's skin alight.

"Okay?" Yuri asks.

"Yes."

He leans over to flip off the bedside lamp.  Darkness swallows the room, and then suddenly this whole experience is much more intimate than Yuri had anticipated.  For now, he can't see Otabek.  He can just feel him, and in the full-sized bed, they feel closer now.

Otabek sighs.  "I can feel you staring at me."

"Sorry," Yuri says automatically.

His eyes are slowly adjusting to the dark now, so he sees a shadow that is possibly Otabek's shoulder as Otabek shifts around.

"You're being weird today," Otabek says.  He's speaking low, since the walls are thin and Leo and Guang-hong's bedroom is just next door.  "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."  Unconvincing, but Yuri rolls with it.  "I'm not being weird.  It's just a bummer.  The blizzard.  You know."

"You were hurting yourself today."

"I wasn't."

Now, Yuri can see most of Otabek's face in the dark.  He is frowning as he reaches out to brush strands off hair off Yuri's face.

"We might not have been friends for long," Otabek says, "but I know your ticks.  I know you unnecessarily stretch when something's bothering you."

Instead of jerking away like his brain wants him to, Yuri relaxes into Otabek's hold.  Maybe even scoots closer.

"Nothing's bothering me," he whispers.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"Yura."

He opens his eyes.  When had he closed them?

"You don't have to be alone all the time."  Otabek slides his fingers over Yuri's cheek.  A caress.

"I don't know what you mean."  The words come out breathy.

Otabek is close.  So so _so very close_.  The tips of their noses barely brush.  Warm breath slides across Yuri's lips.

"Are you going to kiss me, Yura?"

Perhaps it's the oddness of the whole day.  The storm raging outside.  Perhaps it's the intimacy or the anonymity of darkness, and of the middle of the night.  But somehow, Yuri allows himself this one moment of weakness.

"Yes."

Yuri thinks he moves first.  But maybe Otabek does.  Either way, suddenly they are kissing.  Mouths open and soft.  Their lips glide against each other.  And Yuri has never kissed anyone, but Otabek doesn't seem to mind.  Their tongues hardly even touch.  Yuri shies away, half shy and half hoping Otabek continues on anyway.

As they slow to a stop, Yuri has no idea how much time has passed.  It feels like only a few seconds.

Otabek says his name, but rather abruptly, Yuri doesn't want to talk anymore.  He closes his eyes and goes to sleep.

***

The body aches usually don't set in right after a performance.  Within the first hour or so of finishing, Yuri is still running on performance adrenaline.  And then for a little while, he teeters on the line between feeling so good he could dance all over again and feeling so sore that he couldn't move one muscle until the next morning.  He craves that line.  Eats up the rush/pain like sustenance.

But for now, he's still on adrenaline.  Which enables him to _almost almost almost_ escape Viktor after the performance.

He isn't that lucky.

"Yura!" Viktor exclaims, tossing an arm around his shoulders.  "Almost missed you."

Yuri doesn't hide his scowl.

"Let's go out to dinner.  To celebrate the end of your first performance of your first winter season."  Viktor has a way of making demands sound like suggestions.  That casual sort of authority that comes along with being the most celebrated ballet dancer in the world.  

It would be charming to anyone else.  Not to Yuri.

"I'm meeting my roommates," Yuri says.  He smacks Viktor's arm away.  "So I can't."

They didn't make plans, but they came to see the performance.  According to Guang Hong's text, he and Leo are waiting outside the stage exit.  The Overexcited Roommates are the lesser of two evils.

"Invite them."  Viktor grins.  "Let's make it a party!  Hm, where is your Kazakh friend?"  He puts a finger to his lips, eyes searching the group of exhausted dancers trudging their way out.

For a moment, Yuri sees his chance to escape.  But then Viktor is waving at someone with one hand and gripping Yuri's shoulder firmly with the other.  

Sometimes – just sometimes – Yuri suspects Viktor of telepathy.

"Otabek!" Viktor calls.  "Come out to eat with us!"

Yuri spares a quick glance at Otabek on reflex.

The two of them have hardly spoken since the night of the blizzard three days ago.  In the morning, the wind had calmed, and Yuri let Otabek walk back to his apartment alone.  Class and rehearsal were cancelled due to the train system still being down, and the one time Otabek texted him ( _The Russian lady on the first floor of my building just learned I'm Kazakh. She won't stop talking to me now_ ) Yuri left it on "Read" like some douchebag.  Rehearsal and today's performance were equally awkward.  It seemed the entire Corps could tell something was up.

Otabek's expression is carefully blank as he watches Yuri.  His eyes betray nothing.  And somehow, that sets something boiling underneath Yuri's skin.  So unnerving that his anger switch immediately flips on.

 _What the hell_.

"We're going out to celebrate Yura's first winter performance," Viktor goes on when Otabek doesn't respond.  "Come with."

Otabek doesn't even blink; doesn't even take his eyes off Yuri as he says, "Okay."

Viktor hums in Yuri's ear as Otabek types out something on his phone.  "I haven't seen you two speak today.  This makes me feel weird, Yurochka."

"Don't call me that, asshole." Yuri snaps, not caring if Otabek can hear him.

As if he didn't hear him, Viktor swings one arm into the air.  Fourth position.  "All right, friends!  Let's go!"

Two seconds.  They last two seconds before Viktor can't help himself.

"Yuuri!" he exclaims.

The man in question pauses just as he reaches the exit door.  He turns, sheepish, to stare at Viktor with wide eyes and pink cheeks.

Yuri's annoyance with Otabek pales in comparison to his annoyance now.  Who the hell allowed Yuuri Katsuki to be so fucking _cute_?

"V-Viktor," Yuuri stammers.  He moves out of the way for other people to exit.  Viktor reaches him first.  Yuri and Otabek follow behind slowly.

Yuri studiously ignores Otabek's presence.

"We're going out to eat."  Viktor places a gentle hand on Yuuri's shoulder.  Surely it can't be heavy through the thick coat Yuuri's wearing, but his face goes redder anyway.  "Come with us."

"U-um."  Yuuri trails off, blinking hard behind his thick glasses.

Yuri groans.  "Just say yes so we can leave and get this over with."

After a visible swallow, Yuuri agrees.

It doesn't take long to round up Guang Hong and Leo (who are mildly surprised to see Yuri hanging out with people) and within minutes, the six of them are seated at a crowded tapas restaurant.

Yuri is conveniently sitting across from Otabek.  It's honestly ridiculous, the way they keep accidentally meeting each other's eyes and looking away hurriedly.  They do not speak.

Yuri is _pissed_ and he doesn't understand why and that makes him even angrier.  He's upset with Otabek, but why?  Yuri is the one who kissed him.  Yuri is the one who ignored him afterwards.

And this is exactly why he did not want to acknowledge his stupid crush.  He does not have time for this.  Tonight should have been amazing.  He should have been perfect.  But instead, most of his time on stage was spent distracted, thinking about Otabek's mouth and Otabek's face and wondering if he'd ever speak to Otabek again and—

Their late dinner finally ends, and before Yuri understands, he's sharing a cab with Otabek back home.

"I'd much rather you tell me what you're thinking than make me guess," Otabek says quietly as they pass through the busy streets of the city's nightlife.

Yuri is silent for a long moment just to be a little shit, and then he sighs.

"I don't want to talk about this right now, Beka."

"You're still calling me Beka."

 _Foiled_.

"Otabek."  Yuri looks at him.  "I don't have time for – for this.  For—something between us, okay?  I just want to focus on my ballet."

"Us being... something doesn't mean you have to stop focusing on ballet."

"Then why was I so distracted tonight when—"  Yuri stops himself.

Otabek runs his fingers through his hair and it's far far too attractive.  The lights from outside reflect on his dark brown hair, turning it golden in flashes.

"I can prove it to you," Otabek says at last.  "Will you please meet me early tomorrow?  Before classes."

Yuri stares out the window.

"Let me show you.  Please," Otabek continues.

The cab pulls up to Yuri's building first.  He shoves cash for half of the taxi fare into Otabek's hand.  And then, before opening the door, he leans in and says, "I'll meet you tomorrow at 7 am.  Good night, Beka."

He doesn't look back, and escapes the car.

***

Leo is the only other one up when Yuri is getting ready to meet Otabek the next morning.  He squints at Yuri as the both of them pull their shoes on by the door.

"I'm going to my company's studio early, but why are _you_ heading out right now?" he asks.

Yuri sniffs.  "I'm meeting Otabek to warm up early."

With a quiet laugh, Leo shakes his head.  "Overachievers, the both of you."

Yuri spends the crowded train ride particularly hating every single person in the whole city.  He is not a morning person, and he decides not to focus on the fact that he's out at this godforsaken hour just for Otabek.

Otabek is already in a smaller practice room when Yuri arrives at the studio.  He studiously ignores the lines of Otabek's body as he stretches.

"'Morning," Otabek says through a breath.

"Hi."

Yuri drops his stuff by the wall, slips his shoes on, and gets to stretching as well.

"So what did you bring me here for?"  He does not look at Otabek as he asks this.

"You know how I graduated from the company's choreography academy in December?"

"Yes."  At the time, Yuri had been split between feeling ridiculously proud and ridiculously competitive.  "What about it?"

"Well.  They want me to choreograph something for the spring season."

Yuri stops in the middle of his stretch and blinks at his friend.  "Wow.  Seriously?"

"Mhm."  Otabek sighs and stands.  "I have a couple months to perfect it, but I wanted you to help me with what I have so far."

"Okay."  Yuri gets up as well.  His limbs feel awkward, so he wraps his arms around himself.  "What's the piece?"

With the tiniest of smiles, Otabek plugs his iPod into the sound system.

"It's a Gershwin medley," he says, scrolling through his music.  "I've started with Rhapsody in Blue."

The opening clarinet note fills the small room.  And Yuri has heard this song a billion times, but it's never felt as suggestive as it suddenly does, here in the practice room with Otabek standing there in front of him in that soft gray T-shirt.  Heat prickles at Yuri's cheeks.

"Is this contemporary?" Yuri asks to drown out the sound of his heart.

"Sort of.  There's still a story."

"Oh?"

Otabek lifts a leg, arms in third position.  Shuffles to the left and then relaxes.

"I'm trying to do something different than traditional stories.  There's a love story in this one."

Yuri snorts.  "There's a love story in all of them."

Otabek blinks.  "This one is between two men."

 _Oh_.  Yuri swallows.  "Beka, I'm not sure if... if, um."

Carefully, Otabek steps toward him.

"I'm having a difficult time choreographing the legato portion of this," he says quietly.  "Could you help me?"

"Um, w-what's the story at this part?"  When in the _hell_ did Yuri start stuttering?  Like some fucking... lovesick schoolgirl.  This is exactly why he didn't want this.  Didn't want Otabek...

But he did.

Hell, he's always wanted Otabek.

"This is near the beginning," Otabek says, more confidently now.  "The story starts with them falling in love.  And the rest of the ballet follows their relationship.  So this, here, is where they first come together."

The music has almost reached the legato section.  Otabek steps closer now and sets one hand on Yuri's waist.

"Try to follow me for now."  Otabek's voice is little more than a rumble in Yuri's ear now.

Yuri tries to say, _okay_ , but he's not sure the word even makes it past his throat.

Otabek's free hand slides down Yuri's arm before guiding it up and over their heads.  There is a breath of a moment before he turns Yuri, and then it's Yuri's back against Otabek's front and he's being guided.

The dance is slow – partially because Yuri does not know it yet, he guesses – and just on this side of sensuous.  It's romantic.  Reminiscent of the bedroom pas de deux from _Romeo and Juliet_ , but the thought to ask Otabek about this flies out of Yuri's head almost immediately.  He can't think when he's dancing like this with Otabek.  His brain lingers on the feel of Otabek's hands on him, on their movement together.

On dancing.

It makes Yuri a little angry at first.  Otabek has proved his point.  But then they come to a stop.  The music has not ended yet.

"That's what I have for this so far," Otabek says.  "What do you think?"

Yuri tugs at the hairs that have escaped his haphazard bun and clears his throat.  "Think about what?"

Otabek does not answer.

"It's good, but a little boring.  No challenge in it," Yuri provides.

"Not like your rose adage?"

"It's not _my_ rose adage."

"Sure."  Otabek looks as if he wants to step closer, but he keeps a respectable distance between them.  It makes Yuri feel a little cold.  "And what do you think about the other thing?"

The thing where Otabek makes Yuri love dancing?  That just now, Yuri simply _enjoyed_ it, rather than pushing himself to be the best?  That he wasn't thinking about Dedulya and his mother or about the money or the Bolshoi?

"I... understand your point," he says awkwardly.

The corners of Otabek's eyes crinkle.  "And how do you feel about it?"

Yuri has never been good with words.  He kisses him instead.


End file.
